


you should move on, too

by ordanary



Series: PFF Bingo [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Establisheed Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 15:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordanary/pseuds/ordanary
Summary: dan writes a letter to his emotionally abusive ex boyfriend, riley. it’s scary, but phil’s right by his side and he needs to do this to move on. so he’ll be okay, right?





	you should move on, too

**Author's Note:**

> Hey !! So this was written for my phandomficfests bingo card (badboy / nerd), and even though those aren’t the social dynamics of Dan’s current relationship in this fic, they are that of his old one. This is my first ever attempt at writing in present tense, and oh boy was that difficult. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: descriptions of past emotionally abusive relationships, Dan mentioning v emotionally scarred and upset, manipulation. Please let me know if I missed anything !!

There are a lot of things that Dan Howell wants to scream at his ex boyfriend, a lot of things he wants to do to him.

Firstly, he’d very much like to beat his fists against the older boy’s chest until his muscles become too sore to go on. He’d love to yell at him for being so wonderful and then leaving so horribly, to make him feel the same hurt that Dan had to endure. Because when all was said and done, the overwhelmingly achy pain in his chest is the worst part of losing Riley. It still cuts into him deeply whenever he thinks too much about what they shared and how he was so willing to let it all go so suddenly. 

So he knows he wants to hurt him. Cause him pain, make him suffer, scream and yell and cry until the words run dry and his tear ducts empty. That would feel good, he reckons. It might make things feel fair for once. 

However, the problem with that kind of revenge is that after all the satisfaction has left his system and he no longer feels pride in his actions, he’ll feel empty, and he’s felt empty far too much over the past five months. So he decides that revenge is out of the picture, or at least revenge in its harshest forms. 

He still wants the last word, though. He deserves it after all Riley put him through, and he knows that– he’d heard it enough from everyone else to understand. 

Maybe he’ll write a letter, he thinks one night as he’s curled up under the covers of Phil Lester’s bed, the latter’s arms wrapped securely around his waist in a way that simultaneously brings back memories of Riley’s own strong arms and numbs the pain of those flashbacks beyond belief. In those arms, he thinks that maybe that’d be best– to write his feelings instead of screaming them. You can edit written words, but verbal attacks are pretty much unpredictable when fuelled by the level of resentment and frustration balled up inside Dan’s chest. In fact, he feels as though his lungs might explode one day in the near future from all of the wracking sobs he’s wasted on Riley. 

He doesn’t wanna cry over him anymore, he just wants to move on. 

So when he wakes the following Saturday morning he presses a quick kiss to the mess of Phil’s black hair and moves to sit at his desk, pulling a pencil and a stack of lined paper from the top drawer. He stares at the pencil for thirty seconds too long before deciding that this needs to be permanent. He can’t control a lot of things in his messed up teenage life, but he thinks he can try his best to control this. So he retrieves a pen instead. 

Over the next few hours he goes through the first twenty pages of his paper stack, making a mental reminder to reimburse Phil for the loss of writing supplies he’s wasted. He’ll forgive him, he knows he will. Phil doesn’t yell about stupid things like Riley sometimes did. 

When Phil does finally wake up it's closer to the afternoon than the morning, but it’s Saturday, so nobody really cares. Had it not been for the excitement and anxiety of writing his letter, Dan wouldn’t be waking up until now, either. 

“What’re you up to?” He asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before flopping back down onto his pillow.

Dan smiles, because this sleepy morning version of Phil, whose hair is in a tangled mess and whose eyes are a bit resistant to stay open, this is one of his favourite versions of Phil. Don’t get him wrong, he loves energetic Phil, flirty Phil, and geeky video game champion Phil just as much, but there’s just something so raw and beautiful about Phil when he’s like this– it makes Dan feel special, being allowed to see him like this.

With a quickly scribbled note on the inside of his arm, he writes that he needs to include Phil at least one hundred times in the letter, because he wants Riley to know that he’s not hung up over him like that anymore. He’s just hurt, at this point. 

“Writing a letter,” he answers, voice soft because neither of them particularly like loud noises when they’ve just woken up. 

Resting his chin on his elbow, Phil reaches over onto the nightstand and retrieves his glasses, blinking a few times as his eyes get used to being able to see clearly once again. “To who?” He asks. 

“Riley.”

“Oh.” 

Phil knows about Dan’s ex, about all the sorrow he left him to deal with in the wake of his walking out on them. He knows, too, that Dan isn’t completely over the heartbreak yet, and that he needs some form of closure to the situation or else he might truly never recover. So he sits up with a groan and stretches his arms wide with a yawn before nodding. “Do you need any help?” 

Dan shakes his head, eyes fixed on the words he’s already written as he bites his lip. “No, I think I need to do this on my own, y’know?” 

Phil nods again, smiling softly at his slightly younger boyfriend. “I’m really proud of you,” he reminds Dan. “But if you need me at all, I’m here for you.”

And then it’s Dan’s turn to nod, because yes, he knows. He’s thankful, and he wants Phil to know just how much he appreciates it, too, but he doesn’t think he can manage to find the words to tell him. Phil seems to get it though, something in his eyes telling Dan that he’s not alone in his thoughts. 

Phil busies himself with a homework package he’s fished out of his bag, still in bed, and Dan continues writing the letter. And this might be the twenty fifth try, but he thinks he’s getting somewhere with his words because they start to flow easily from his brain to his hand to the tip of his ballpoint pen, and that has to mean something, right? It’s getting easier. 

He writes about the things Riley did, the events that put them both in such a place where affection turned to obsession, and how he’s still getting over that with each day. He lets him know that the way he sits beside him in their shared maths class and makes small talk like nothing's changed, the way he still calls him by that stupid nickname that he, himself, has boycotted, the way he taunts him with conversations and body language that makes Dan doubt if it’s all really even over– it hurts him. And Dan doesn’t think he can let that go on without ripping his own hair out. He’s trying to move on, and Riley needs to do that, too. 

So he tells him about Phil, and how perfect he is for Dan. Tells him that no, Dan has never needed someone strong and dark to save him, like Riley drilled into his brain so many months ago. Phil’s not like Riley, he’s like Dan. And that’s good, because he doesn’t feel intimidating or scary, he feels warm. 

He makes a point to mention how Phil doesn’t make fun of him for fanboying over video games and animés because he likes them too, so they talk about them together at one AM instead. Dan wants him to know that Phil isn’t trying to save him, or be his hero in shiny black leather and a billion piercings like Riley was, but he is saving him, regardless. With every time he shows up to Dan’s house with a stack of movies for them to marathon, every warm hug that he doesn’t know he needs until he’s got pale arms wrapped tightly around him, every time they walk through the school hallways and Phil connects their hands so Dan doesn’t have to feel so alone anymore. 

Riley never did that, he only ever thought that just being beside him was enough. He let Dan cry on his shoulder and sleep on his chest, but he fed off of it, too, Dan knows that now. He was only ever looking for someone to protect, he needed someone to look after, someone to need him. 

Dan writes that he should probably stop with that. He should learn that he’s needed even without a half broken and incredibly gullible boy hanging off his side at every moment of every day. 

He should learn to be patient, Dan thinks, so he adds that, too. 

When he’s moved on from the subject of Phil, a difficult feat in itself, Dan decides to tell Riley how far he’s come since loving him– or thinking he’d loved him. Because it probably wasn’t love, just an urge to be close to someone who would keep him safe, and Riley was there. Dan often catches himself wishing that he’d become depressed a year later instead of last spring, because then maybe he could’ve looked to Phil rather than Riley, but he knows things were dark back then, and that would’ve been best in the long run. When it comes down to it though, he’s relieved he’s not writing this letter to Phil right now. In it own bittersweet way, he’s glad he’s writing to Riley, instead. 

So he mentions the talks he’s had with his mum and his grandma that have made him feel so much better, the ways he’s slowly integrated himself back into being part of a family, instead of just being an extension of someone else. 

He tells him about all the good things, and all the bad things he’s overcome, the late nights spent laughing with friends as opposed to moping in his bedroom. 

Dan decides not to tell him that he still has nightmares sometimes, and that every once in a while the memories of them will become too much and he’ll wind up sobbing on the kitchen floor. He doesn’t mention that, because he doesn’t want to give Riley more ammunition to use against him. After a year of being together, he's already got enough stored away, Dan’s sure. 

After another hour and a half of Phil humming the Mario theme song on repeat and Dan telling him to shush multiple times, he’s done writing his letter. 

He reads it over once before folding it up and running downstairs to ask Kath for an envelope. 

“Mailing a letter?” She asks curiously, smiling warmly at her son’s boyfriend of nearly four months. 

He nods, returning the smile. “Yeah, I’m gonna mail it tomorrow, I think.” He watches as Kath digs through a messy utility drawer in the kitchen, humming in approval when she pulls out a long, white envelope. It’ll work perfectly, he thinks. 

“There you go,” she says triumphantly– within good reason, too. Most of Kath’s drawers are complete messes. 

“Thank you.”

When he goes back upstairs, he throws the sealed envelope onto Phil’s desk, deciding he’ll write the address down later. He doesn’t have to worry about that now. 

Phil’s still mid homework package, but he pushes it off of his lap and onto the floor as Dan crawls onto the bed beside him, settling himself down into the space between Phil’s side and the ugly green wall. 

“Done?”

“Yes.”

—

As promised, he mails the letter on the Sunday after writing it. 

He’s sitting back at home at the dining room table and it takes everything in him not to tear the paper open and rip it into a billion different pieces. He knows mailing it will give him some sort of satisfaction, will feel like an enormous weight being lifted off of his shoulders, but that’s also what scares him. After his words are out of his own hands and in someone else’s, he’ll no longer have anything to worry himself with, nothing to think about at night or procrastinate doing for weeks on end.

And what is he supposed to do then?

“You’re supposed to live your life again,” Phil offers when Dan calls him up as he’s still caught up over whether or not he should mail the damn letter. 

It takes a while for him to realize it, but when he finally does, Dan thinks he’s right, because that would be nice, wouldn’t it? He’d really like to enjoy his life with everyone he loves around him now that this is over. 

So he finishes writing out Riley’s address and asks his mum if he can borrow the car, from there driving to the nearest post station and mailing the letter. Something about seeing the paper slip down the box’s slot and fall onto a pile of a dozen other mailings is therapeutic, and Dan drives back home with a strong sense of pride. 

A few days later he’s sitting in his maths class, dreading for Riley to occupy the seat next to him like he’s been doing for the past couple months since school started up again. 

But when Riley walks into class, he darts to the left as opposed to the right, taking a spot at the front of the classroom instead. Dan wonders if this means he’s read the letter, and he feels his suspicions have been confirmed when Riley quickly turns his head to give Dan a weary look before returning his gaze to the front board to start on the warm up questions for this morning. 

Dan sighs a breath of relief, and when he meets with Phil in the hallway after the period is over, he’s feeling so many things he can barely describe them all at once. 

As they’re walking hand in hand to their science class together, he decides to tell Phil about his last class. 

“He didn’t sit with me today,” he speaks, loud enough for Phil to hear him over the babble of everyone else, but quiet enough for him to be the only one. 

Phil quirks an eyebrow. “Do you think that means he’s received the letter?”

Nodding, Dan pulls Phil a bit to the right to keep his clumsy boyfriend from running into another busy student who isn’t looking where they’re going. “Yeah, I think so. I think it’s over, for the most part.”

“I’m glad,” Phil responds, giving Dan’s hand a squeeze. 

“Me too.”

And from there on things do get easier for him. The clouds start to clear and for the first time in a few years, Dan actually begins to feel hope for a future that doesn’t involve Riley in the least bit. 

A few months later, when Phil tells him he loves him, he says it back, because he’s sure this is what love's supposed to feel like. He doesn’t need to love Phil because he fears he’s might fall apart if he doesn’t, he loves him because it feels good. And that’s how he knows what he had with Riley wasn’t real love. It was a substitute for whatever that little happy bit of him was missing, and it worked for a while, but then it became stale. And when it’s been well over a year and him and Phil are sitting side by side on the latter’s dorm bed as they each study for their separate university exams, Dan can finally say he’s completely moved on. 

And he’s so, so happy with his nerd of a boyfriend being next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading !! Maybe leave a like and reblog on tumblr (@ordanary) ?? As always, kudos and comments are super appreciated and I hope you have a lovely day <3


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